


Twin Terrors

by Artemis_Dreamer



Series: The Squishy Apocalypse [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Conjunx Eterna, Dessert & Sweets, Drabble, Fat Robots, Fluff, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Mild Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10140410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: His conjunx hadn’t been deactivated, merely wounded, but that knowledge did nothing to ease the pain in his spark. Seeking a coping strategy, Sunstreaker had turned to human television – namely, to the latest episode of As the Kitchen Sinks.---In which Sunstreaker is chubby and insecure, and Sideswipe wants to help. They may or may not be forgetting something.





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is a work of fetish fiction, involving unhealthy eating, weight gain and implied belly stuffing.
> 
> Don't like, don't read.

There was no denying that Sunstreaker had gained weight. There was also no denying that it had been inevitable.

Recently, it seemed that the tide of luck had turned against the Autobots. Battle after battle had been lost to the Decepticons as those villainous mechs had raided facility after facility, stockpiling massive quantities of energon. Nomech could explain where their enemy's newfound strength had come from, but everymech could agree that the results were devastating.

It had proven particularly devastating for the frontliner twins. Injuries to their own frames were practically a non-issue, merely an occupational hazard to be endured by any warrior who fought for the Autobot cause. Injuries to their conjunx, however, were an entirely different story.

The twins were conjunx eterna to Ratchet, and their relationship was one of teasing, of mischief, and of unbridled romantic passion. Ratchet had been severely injured in the Autobots' last battle, his spark chamber cracked by the force of an explosion that had left his plating riddled with shrapnel.

Sunstreaker felt that he was personally responsible for his conjunx's suffering, convinced that his own failures as a warrior had resulted in those injuries. After all, it was the duty of the twins to guard the medic whenever circumstances required him to enter the battlefield.

The scene replayed over and over in his processor - the grenade that he had failed to deflect, the detonation that he had been unable to prevent, the cry of agonizing pain that had left Ratchet's vocalizer as the explosion had struck him. Over and over it replayed - the memory of the slowly clearing smoke, the memory of the medic lying prone in a motionless heap, the memory of the fear that mercilessly gripped his spark.

His conjunx hadn’t been deactivated, merely wounded, but that knowledge did nothing to ease the pain in his spark.

Seeking a coping strategy, Sunstreaker had turned to human television – namely, to the latest episode of As the Kitchen Sinks. Humans, he discovered, dealt with grief through the consumption of excessive amounts of fuel. Particularly sweets.

It seemed ridiculous, but at that point, anything had been worth a try.

Surprisingly, it had worked. When the frontliner stuffed himself with fuel, those horrible memories abated, his processor overwhelmed by the blissful sensation of fullness. The solution, however, was not permanent in nature. To keep the memories at bay, repeated over-fuelling was required. Before long, the frontliner had developed a fondness for the taste of organic fuels, and eating them had become undeniably pleasurable. Particularly sweets.

The outcome was inevitable - Sunstreaker had gained weight. And yet, he was still fuelling to excess, flatly refusing to acknowledge that any changes had occurred to his frame.

The golden mech stuffed another forkful of carrot cake into his mouth, grumbling a curse as he caught sight of his twin entering the rec room. Sideswipe, it seemed, hadn’t been nearly so traumatized by the aftermath of Ratchet’s injury, and had taken it upon himself to tease Sunstreaker regarding his chosen coping method.

“Don’t tell me you’re still eating,” the crimson frontliner’s tone was incredulous as he settled on the sofa beside his twin. “Primus, Sunny. Even your alt mode's getting fat!”

“My alt mode is perfect, and you know it,” Sunstreaker grumbled, speaking around yet another mouthful of cake. There were no words to adequately describe the delicious taste of the dessert – moist, heavy and vaguely spicy, layered thickly with rich cream-cheese icing - and he wasn't about to stop eating it merely to converse with his twin.

“You’re saying that a Lambo is supposed to be this curvy?” Sideswipe teased, pinching the roll of soft plating that bulged around his twin's waist.

Sunstreaker stiffened at the touch, distress emanating through the bond that he shared with his twin. Sideswipe winced at the reaction.

“It’s just a little teasing, Sunny. Since when does that bug you?” It was as close to an apology as Sunstreaker was going to get without providing an explanation for his behaviour.

“It "bugs" me,” the golden twin snapped, "since you started pointing out how awful I look.”

Taken aback by the vehemence of Sunstreaker's tone, the red mech shuttered his optics with confusion. What the Pit was his twin talking about? “Awful?” Sideswipe echoed incredulously. “You look fine to me.”

It was true - gaining weight had done nothing to diminish his twin’s good looks. Sunstreaker's sleek plating still shone brilliantly through a layer of fresh polish. The only difference was the increase in the amount of plating that needed to be polished. 

His flat chassis had swelled into considerable belly, which currently jutted out spherically over his plump thighs, stuffed full with the multitude of desserts that Sunstreaker had been gorging on all afternoon. The softening of his back plating was clearly evidenced by a pair of burgeoning love handles, and an even larger roll of fat had accumulated around his hips and aft, both of which were considerably broader than before.

At the moment, the golden frontliner was far from huge, but if he kept over-fuelling, it was likely that he soon would be. The only word that Sideswipe could use to accurately describe the other's appearance was “squishy.”

The red mech's servos practically twitched with the temptation to poke and tickle his chubby twin, to become intimately acquainted with every inch of that soft plating. It would be so much fun to pounce on Sunstreaker and grope the living daylights out of him, to make his twin twitch and giggle and pant beneath his servos as he teased the golden mech's frame. It was incredibly tempting to jump Sunstreaker right then and there, on the rec room sofa, regardless of who might see them.

It took a considerable effort for Sideswipe to restrain his playful impulses and actually listen to his twin as the golden mech explained the reason for his distress.

“Looking "fine" isn’t good enough.” Sunstreaker groused. “I have a reputation to keep.” His plush frame sagged with dejection, and a pout formed on his lipplates. “I’m supposed to be the more attractive twin.”

Sideswipe's initial response was largely unsurprising – he irately slugged his twin in the shoulder, hard enough to dent. However, the ensuing tussle that he had expected never actually began. Sunstreaker didn’t even hit him back. Their bond radiated uncharacteristic insecurity, the golden frontliner baring his innermost emotions to the only mech who would truly understand.

The solution was simple. "Exactly,” Sideswipe grinned, sending waves of reassurance flooding through their bond. “We're twins. I want to keep it that way."

Sunstreaker shuttered his optics with confusion. What was the red mech suggesting?

That question was answered when Sideswipe used his digit to snag a dollop of icing from the carrot cake that lay abandoned in his twin’s lap. He licked it off of his servo in a way that was equal parts teasing and playful, his intentions clear. He was perfectly willing to gain weight alongside Sunstreaker if it would allow his twin to be more comfortable about his changing frame.

"So, where do I start?" The red mech inquired, snagging another dollop of icing and chuckling as his twin irately slapped his servo aside.

Sideswipe's question was answered when the golden mech handed him a massive slice of cake. In fact, unless his optics were deceiving him, it wasn’t actually a slice - it was the remaining half of the cake. 

“Where do you think you're going to start, dumbaft?” Sunstreaker grinned, amused by the stunned expression on the other mech's faceplates. 

He knew that the only way Sideswipe could hope to catch up to his size was by consuming even larger quantities of fuel than he did. Therefore, his plan was to stuff the red mech's tanks to the point of near-bursting, over and over again, until their frames were of equal size.

Pit, Sunstreaker knew that if he stuffed his twin full enough and often enough, the red mech's gain might even begin to outpace his own - and if Sideswipe became the larger of the two mechs, the golden frontliner's status as the more attractive twin would be all but assured.

As the red mech dug into the massive slice of cake, he realized how incredibly good it tasted. Had Sunstreaker really planned to keep something this delicious all to himself? He was tempted to punch his twin for a second time, but that would mean disrupting the continuous movement of his fork between the cake and his mouth. No, he wasn't annoyed enough to stop eating for even a nanoklik.

Before his processor slipped completely into the blissful haze of overindulgence, the red mech couldn’t help but ask a question about the glaringly obvious problem - a problem which hadn't even occurred to his twin. 

"What’s Ratchet going to think?” Sideswipe had no doubt that the medic would be incredibly surprised that after just two decaorns in the medbay, he would emerge to a pair of chubby conjunxes. 

"We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it," Sunstreaker replied, utilising the human idiom without so much as a second thought. Something told him that Ratchet wouldn't mind in the least, and that the mech who made their sparks complete would never even think of judging their frames. Their love for one-another was genuine and unconditional.

Besides, even if the medic did mind, Sunstreaker knew that it would be easy to convince him otherwise. As grumpy and stoic as Ratchet was, he had never been able to resist the persuasive powers of his twins. After a bit of chubby loving, their conjunx wouldn’t have the energy to care about how either of them looked – or about anything other than his next overload. 

Sideswipe smirked as the details of his twin’s plan filtered through their bond. No, Ratchet definitely wouldn’t mind in the least.

**Author's Note:**

> For the anonymous Twobit. I hope that this meets your expectations!
> 
> Sunny/Sides/Ratchet is one of my OT3s, the other being the command trine. Hopefully I was able to do their relationship justice.
> 
> I am working on several requests at the moment, but I am still willing to take more - G1, Prime or Animated, any mech or pairing you'd prefer - if you don't mind there being a bit of a wait time.
> 
> Any and all feedback is appreciated!


End file.
